Bandages
by NeonCharlie
Summary: Nine years have gone by, but the wounds of the past are still engraved deeply. Unfortunately for Jareth and Sarah, rehabilitation is a long and painful process.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I owned Jareth, I'd have noooo time to waste in writing. Suffice to say none of it belongs to me. Ever.

A/N: This is my first Laby fic, so if you R/R (and I greatly encourage this), please be gentle. I'm a very delicate maggot with hopes of transforming into a beautiful mayfly with the proper care and nurture (I don't believe in butterflies. They're _ridiculously_ attractive, and anything _ridiculously _attractive is usually _ridiculously _conceited. *glances at His Nibs and thinks of the Bog* Erm, not that that's necessarily a bad thing...).

Also, I am so sorry I can't write smut. I promise, though, it'll be over soon.

* * *

Dreams, a professor visiting her middle school once told her, were a thing of beauty. Deliciously illusive, bitterly sweet, and unbearably true. A reflection of your inner being, he said. The raw core of your very soul.

If this was true, then that meant Sarah William's soul looked like an incredibly attractive man in an over sexed wardrobe.

* * *

Slender fingers traced light circles on the inside of her thigh, barely touching her but creating electricity inside Sarah's stomach nonetheless. Hot breath settled on her slender neck as she craned her neck to give him more access, lips so close she nearly cried out with need for contact. A lean, leather-clad knee skimmed her inner knee, settling dangerously close between her legs. _Not close enough._

"Please," she moaned, trying to grind herself against said leg, needing that friction. Two hands firmly but gently kept her in place.

"Not yet," a smooth baritone purred, and she felt angel-soft hair against her cheek.

A tongue dragged sensuously over her bare chest, his hands tracing the contours of her waist. It lowered to a pert nipple, tracing the skin around it and moving inward. She moaned at the first real touch, her back arching in pleasure. Lips surrounded the sensitive flesh, suckling gently. Sharp teeth grazed skin, and Sarah mewled, wriggling her hips about to find some sort of friction.

"Oh gaaawd," she moaned, the tension decidedly unbearable. "Please..."

"Please what, precious?"

"Touch me."

He purred. She heard a snap of fingers and a felt a poof of glitter, and suddenly that knee was clothed in leather no longer. His hands were removed from her waist, his fingers moving to her inner folds. They quivered at her entrance, and she gasped.

"Tell me what you want," he growled.

_That smug, cocky, glittering, narcissistic little bastard! If he thought he was going to turn me into some sort of whimpering-_

She scowled, my eyes still closed.

His hands flicked at me, making me tremble involuntarily.

His tongue flicked at the shell of her ear and bit at her earlobe.

"I'm waiting, precious..."

_There is no way in hell-_

"I want you to touch me. I want you to make me crumble and melt and scream and moan."

_Dammit._

She gasped heavily as she felt a tongue slip inside of her, vibrating as he growled into her.

"Jareth!"

* * *

Sarah bolted from her bed, the dark of the night blinding her. She looked around desperately, searching for a lean body and light, incredibly soft strands of unruly hair.

She didn't find it.

Chastising herself, she ran a slightly trembling hand through her lovely, dark hair. Nine years later and she still had the those kinds of dreams.

Her first of these naughty dreams had made its debut the night after her conquering of the Labyrinth. It had left her flushed, dazed and confused. It created feelings she had never realized.

And ever since, she could expect one a week with the same man every time, no matter who she was seeing. And once a week, she could expect a feeling of incomprehensible depression and deep emptiness.

She looked down at the man snoring softly at her side, lying on his stomach.

John had a mop of wildly blonde hair with rock hard abs and biceps with a smooth tan. His physique was toned and flawless, a celebrated rock star among the locals.

And yet...

Discontentment curled inside her stomach.

She winced. She found her fingers tracing the lines on his back and neck, gently waking him from sleep. He chuckled and rolled over, a large hand cupping her face gently.

* * *

The morning after, Sarah awoke to the wonderful smell of bacon. Rising from her own cotton sheets, she yawned deftly. She stood to fetch her robe in her closet and joined John in her kitchen.

He smiled charmingly at her, frying pan in hand as the sound of crackling oil and delicious scent of breakfast cooking pervaded the air.

Smiling blithely, he put the pan back down and sauntered toward her, a white muscle shirt molding to his chest. She tried to smirk in return, but it felt forced and flimsy.

He kissed her cheek, moving to her jaw and lightly biting at her neck.

She shivered a bit from disgust, but he took it as approval and carried on with his conquest.

"Uhm, John... Don't you think you should... Er, uhm... The bacon's burning!" she cried out in desperation.

Sarah winced as she felt his pout against her neck, but he left all the same. She wiped the spit from her neck with a grimace behind his back.

"No, hon, it's not... It's still relatively- Babe?"

She escaped to her room, locking the door behind her.

Headed towards the bathroom, she flipped her hair with a sigh.

The door closed swiftly behind her, and she busied herself and took a look at the mirror-

"Shit!"

Jareth's smug image grinned wolfishly back at her. He licked his lips deftly at her state of undress.

She blinked and he was gone. A hand flew to her forehead as she let out a big breath. She swore she was going insane...

Inside the Labyrinth's grand castle, a deep chuckle resounded about the grimy walls and chickens, high cackles echoing their monarch.

Jareth was plotting. And when Jareth plots, goblins and mischief are bound to follow.


	2. Life Must Go On

Disclaimers: Owning the Labyrinth would cause my happy demise... Seeing as I'm not dead, I do not.

* * *

Sarah prepared for work hastily in an attempt to avoid John as much as possible. She opted for breakfast and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing out the door.

It was a quick drive to the university; quick enough so she didn't have the time to think too deeply about life as she knew it.

Discontent was the only way to describe her. She felt nothing for her boyfriend, she and the rest of her immediate family were (Toby being the only exception) distant, and her job was unfulfilling of her potential at best.

She sighed. Maybe the commute was longer than she thought.

She opened the car door of her Toyota, straightening her deep brown pantsuit and mauve undershirt. Leaning over, she grabbed the files filled with student essays sitting messily on the passenger seat, closed the door, locked it, and continued her way to the squat, grey building labeled "Mythology and Folklore."

Its heavy concrete door made her frown a bit as she tried to shift the papers to one hip to free a hand. She murmured a curse as she nearly dropped a few and sighed in relief as the door was opened from the inside.

"Oh, looks like you might need a bit of help there, miss," a distinctly French accent she came to recognize as Greggs sounded.

Twenty-seven year old Gregory "Greggs" Moreaux grinned mischievously from the doorframe. He was lean with a lightly muscular build and an even tan. Sparkling eyes were a russet brown that were only a shade lighter than his thick, lustrous, unruly and slightly wavy hair. A Sergeant Pepper styled moustache rested over slight lips, a sprinkling of facial hair outlining a strong jaw.

He was quite the catch, and she was his perfect wingman.

They had teamed up the day he had been hired as her TA when he, too, was looked down upon. This university had its own sort of hierarchy, and the senior professors were reigning monarchs.

"Oh, no, Mister Moreaux, I'm just juggling these papers for fun," she sighed sarcastically, giving him a patented glare as he continued watching her struggle.

"Well, in that case..." he chirped, he shut the door on her face.

Sarah groaned.

"What's that, miss Williams? I can't quite hear you!" Greggs smiled from the other side of the door.

"Greggs!" she snarled, and the door reopened.

He chuckled and took all her papers, allowing her entrance. Before going in, she slapped him upside the head, causing him to swear in mock pain.

Sarah had to look down to hide her face before grinning affectionately in turn.

* * *

During their free period, they sat in different chairs in her classroom on opposite sides of the room as they graded yet another slew of essays.

Greggs jokingly called it the William's Mythology and Folklore College Amphitheater, WFMCA for short.

They both smiled in greeting when red-headed Marissa Childe, the TA for Anthropology, joined them.

"So, Sar, how's the soulmate?" she queried casually as she settled into another desk.

"The who?"

"You know, hunky superstar John Wilks?"

"Oh. That soulmate," she sighed, sitting up to rub her eyes. "He's... He's..."

"Not what you expected."

She eyed her with a slight frown.

"Yeah..."

"No-one else will ever be like him. He's _special; there's no-one else like him in the world._ Finding replacements won't be easy," she breathed, red pen in hand.

"What...? Wh-what are you talking about? I never told either of you about Jareth..."

"Hon', you didn't have to. You get the hotties all around and yet you aren't content with a single one."

Sarah sputtered for a bit.

"Wh-what are you talking about? Of course I'm happy!"

Marissa looked at Greggs who was still grading.

"Tell her I'm right."

"She's right," he murmured to appease.

She turned back to Sarah.

"See, he agrees with me."

Sarah rolled her eyes at the both.

"Just think about it, okay?"

She sighed but stored the thought away for later.

* * *

Sarah gathered her things after the day had finished, fishing her car keys out of her purse.

"Hey, Sar? Do you think you could cover for me while I take the next day or two off?" Gregg's normally smooth voice choked up. Looking up in alarm, she saw him staring at the reciever of his desk phone, his body wracked with tension.

"Of course... What is it? What's up?" She walked over to him, concern clear on her features.

"Family matters," he answered, his eyes glazed. He looked shocked into disbelief.

She nodded, not wanting to press him.

* * *

The sliding doors of Eat-Mart opened to give Sarah entrance, her arms and mind full.

Family matters? She had never seen Greggs look so... out of it. What in the world had him so tense and upset that he couldn't explain...? He hadn't mentioned a girlfriend, so it probably wasn't that. He said that his father had passed and that he loved his mother dearly... Perhaps something had happened to her.

Footfalls sounded behind her, as they had been for the past two or three minutes.

Wait, what?

She turned around quickly, chin sticking out defiantly. Behind her were three burly men, their necks the size of her thighs. Scars marred their ugly faces, beanies pulled tightly over their massive heads.

A tendril of fear curled inside of her, but she firmly squashed it down. Fear only lead to panic. Besides, she was the champion of the Labyrinth. Three thugs were a walk in the park compared to Jare- **_his_ **Labyrinth. Right?

"Excuse me, gentlemen, may I help you with something?" she snapped coldy.

"We were jus' finkin' that tha' nice little ass of yers would look nice on my lap," he slurred, chuckling. "Whaddya think? A li'le dance fer us three boys?"

She laughed, forcing it to sound cruel and incredulous.

"Me? Give you three a lap dance? That's almost as ridiculous as the thought of you having a brain to think!"

The leader looked offended, stepping fowards threateningly. The other two followed his lead.

"We dun' wanna hurt you, but we're gettin' tha' dance from you. 'S gonna be fun, I promise."

"Doubt it."

He continued fowards, and she stepped backwards in return. Before she knew it, they had backed her against a wall. Her mind raced, checking her surroundings for anything that could give her leverage.

She might have imagained it, but she thought she saw little shadows dancing around, cackling so only she could hear.

No, no of course not.

Weighing her options, she sighed, putting the grocery bags down.

"Okay, boys, who's up first?"

The leader smiled lewdly, and she sauntered over to him, unbuttoning her panstuit slowly to expose the top of her mauve undershirt.

Classy met disgusting as she cuddled up close, nearly gagging at the smell of cheap alchohal and heavy alchohol.

Grabbing his balls, she smiling saucily. He growled deeply in his throat, laughing suggestively.

She squeezed.

Hard.

He blanched uncomfortably, still trying to smile.

"Hey, loosen up, bitch, I can't feel my good stuff."

"What's that?" Sarah asked, smiling innocently as she tightened her grip.

"Eh, leggo! Yer hurtin' me!"

Her hands contricted his genitals until he cried out in pain. She let go, but only to knee him as hard as she possibly could between the legs. He howled and fell to the floor. By now, she was smiling cruelly.

"You were right. That was fun."

The other two lumbered toward her, big meaty hands in front of them. Her foot went flying into one of the guy's face in a round house kick, her heels leaving a gaping hole that began to bleed. He swore loudly, but she was already grabbing the other's hand and pulling him foward as he lunged after her, using his own weight against him. Her fist was waiting for his face and connected with his nose, blood spurting from his nostrils. She pushed him, and he fell to the ground. The first came after her yet again, but she sent a quick but powerful kick to his knee, sending him sprawling. Before she could return to thug number two, she felt a cold, metallic circle at her neck.

The leader had a gun.

She put her hands up, hoping someone would save her... Anybody. Maybe Greggs or John or Marissa or the grocer, or...

Maybe even Jareth.

"'S lights out for you, bitch."

* * *

**A/N:** Bwahahahaha! Cliff hanger ending! I know, I know, I'm evil.

It might take days for my to update the next chapter, or weeks. It may even be months. But you know what makes me write faster?

_**Reviews**_**. ***hint hint*


	3. Only a Dream

Disclaimers: Owning anything would imply me having the money. And as we all know, I'm incredibly, extremely broke.

**A/N: **Trust me, okay? Read to the end of this chapter, no matter what happens. I'll explain later.

* * *

Sarah closed her eyes, breath becoming ragged and uneven. The thug slapped her, pain searing her right cheek and lighting in on fire. He pulled her hair back with severity, snarling unpleasantly. He forced off her pantsuit to show the world her undershirt. Rough hands pulled the top down to expose her lacy black bra, and he sucked in a breath of lewd appreciation.

"Beg for yer life, bitch. We was gonna let you off the hook, but you changed the game."

Shadows of gruesome little creatures squirmed restlessly, wanting to rescue their Lady Sarah, but a raised gloved hand and a quiet hiss told them they were to wait.

There was no way she could die like this. No way her life would end at gun-point at the tender age of twenty-four. Not without ever marrying, never having children of her own... Not without never seeing _**him **_again.

She took a deep breath. Might as well think about him now.

J-Jareth, she forced herself to think his name. Her enemy. Her childhood love. Her adult fantasy. She was going to die without ever seeing him again, not as a hallucination, not as a dream, not ever.

The thug pulled harder on her free hair.

"I said BEG, bitch!"

No. She would rather die than shame herself this way. She was Sarah Williams, conqueror of the Labyrinth. There was no way she'd lower herself that way.

She spat in his face.

"Y' know what? Bobby, take 'er pants off!" By now, the one with the broken nose was standing at attention. He nodded and stood Sarah up, a dirty hand grabbing the fine cloth of her pants.

Somewhere, a low, menacing growl sounded.

Wait a second, she knew that voice.

"Jareth!" she cried out, and with another signal from the gloved hand, all hell broke loose.

The air was filled with malicious snickers, cackles and scratching noises. The two conscious thugs froze, looking at each other in confusion.

Meanwhile, Sarah gasped. _They were real, not some sort of dream._

Shadows roughly the size of small children rose all around them, creeping up their thick legs with their clawlike-hands. The leader screamed, dropping the gun in alarm.

"Witch!" he screamed. "She's a fuckin' witch from hell!" He batted at the shadows, trying to get them off his jeans. The other holding her pants let go of her like she was contagious, head whipping around as he tried to take in the things crawling up his legs and screamed as they bit him.

He fell over, scrambling to get away from her.

Soon, they were covered in goblins, their screaming cut short when they simply disappeared. All three of them just vanished.

Sarah didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified.

Before she knew it, she fell to the floor, arms wrapped around herself. She gathered herself together, pulling her soiled pantsuit over her torn undershirt. She looked around to find a single white feather.

An owl feather.

"J-Jareth?" she called, her voice a mix between hopefulness, disbelief, fear, exhaustion, desperation, and unease.

There was no answer.

* * *

Sarah drove back to her apartment incredibly, now that the adrenaline and bravado had left her, shaken, cold and tired.

John answered the door, taken aback by her disheveled appearance.

"You look like hell," he commented.

Exhaustion quickly turned into a short temper.

"Thank you," she answered, a glare accompanying her sharp tone.

"What the hell happened?"

"Attempted rape. Now will you let me in?" she hissed, not in the mood for her boyfriend's idiocracy and insensitivity at the moment. He quickly moved out of her way, not even trying to take her bags from her.

"And yes, John, I would love some help with these."

He shut the door and hurried to her side, taking the paper bags in his good-for-nothing muscled arms.

"Thank you," she said curtly.

"Alright, now will you tell me what's going on?"

"In a second. I have to call Greggs." She picked up the phone from the wall, dialing his number from memory. He had told her once that he had been trained in self-defence from his father in Paris. Maybe he could teach her more than the basic kick-and-punch she learned from the two or three classes she took out of fleeting interest. Becuase she was sure that she would not let something like She waited, and when he didn't answer, she dialed again.

Nothing.

Grabbing the phone book from her purse, she looked up Childe, Marissa.

"Hey, Sar! What's going on?"

"Hey. Your brother teaches Tae Kwon Do, right?"

"Well yeah, sure. Why?"

* * *

After a lengthly talk with Marissa, she changed into sweats and grabbed a cup of tea to calm her nerves. John had already fallen asleep, seeing as it was two o'clock in the morning.

She sat herself down on the couch, not quite ready to sleep yet. On went the television, David Bowie's handsome features filling the screen. Sarah smiled gently. She could always count on good ol' Bowie to be there for her, even when Greggs and **_he_ **couldn't.

The soothing aroma of tea, the sound of China Girl, and the flickering lights of the television finally lulled her to sleep.

That was when the nightmares started.

* * *

It was odd for a dream; instead of viewing her body from the outside, it was from her perspective. She took a look around her, not letting it bug her.

The filth of the castle of the Goblin King hadn't changed since she she had been here last; the throne was littered with chicken feathers, soiled rags, its walls were covered in grime, and barrells of who-knows-what lay haphazardly about, the occasional sling-shot resting atop it.

Only a handful of goblins milled about, their grotesque faces nearly adorable.

She knelt down and grabbed one by the hat-horns. He looked up at her, giving her a toothy grin.

"Lady Sarah! What's you doin' here?"

"How do you know my name?"

The goblin looked at her oddly.

"You gets the stupid knocked into you? 'Course e'ry body gots to know who you is. You's the con- conke- coknerner of the Labyrinth."

She raised an amused eyebrow and smiled.

"Say, what's your name?"

"Took, Lady Sarah. The king's mostest favorite kickee," he declared proudly.

"And just where might your king be at the moment?" she queried before she could stop herself.

"Out."

"Out where?"

He eyed her suspiciously.

"Why you gots to know?"

"Because I'd like to talk to him."

Took cocked his head confusedly.

"What makes yous think he wants to talk to you?" It wasn't a cold reply, either. It was spoken out of genuine curiosity.

She blinked in surprise.

"B-because... Because..." _Because he fell in love with me. At least, that's how it's _supposed_ to go..._

Took just shrugged.

"He's out. You want I tells him you came?"

Before she could answer, there was loud giggling accompanied by a throaty rumble nearby, followed by a grabby Jareth and a very well endowed and gorgeous women in a state of undress. His gloved hands were wrapped around her milky breasts, a look of primal hunger on his face.

Took opened his mouth, and before Sarah could stop him, called out.

"KIIIIING! You gots a visitor!"

"Tell Lord Falek I'm busy," he growled, his tongue running over the women's jaw.

"S'not Fluffy Pumpkin Man. S' Lady Sarah."

He froze as the red-headed beauty kissed his neck and nipped lightly.

"Freida, why don't you go head over to my chambers? I've business to attend to," his voice filled with tension.

She pouted her full lips and pulled her dress up, leaving the throne room in a huff.

Sarah watched him look at her with disinterest. When she looked back on it, she wondered what her face must have looked like. Probably a lot like a kicked puppy.

"Ah, yes. Dear _Lady_ _Sarah_," he hissed her name mockingly, sarcasm lacing his voice. He tugged the hem of his leather gloves tightly. "To what do I owe this... _unexpected _visit?"

She couldn't even reply for a few moments.

"I... I wanted to say thank you... Who is she?" she asked sharply, suddenly.

Jareth raised an adorned eyebrow, a smile of cruelty setting upon his features.

"Why? You don't honestly think I'd stay celibate for _you, _did you?"

"No! Er... y-yes- I don't know," she cried out in anguish.

"Have you for me?"

That stung. She was at a loss for what to say.

"Besides, what obligation have we to each other? It isn't as if anything actually _happened _between us."

"I thought you fell in love with me!" she burst, immediately regretting it.

He snickered cruelly, even going as far to throw his wild mane back with that condescending laugh of his at the very idea.

"What made you think that? One dance hardly ensures a marriage proposal."

Sarah felt her face flush with anger and embarrassment. All this time, she thought... She closed her eyes, urging herself to _wake up._

* * *

She woke in cold sweat and fresh tears, the sound of his heartless laugh still ringing in her ears. Of course that hadn't really happened. She had been through a lot today, and this was the result of mass amounts of stress. Wrapping her arms tightly against her legs, she rocked slowly, trying to remind herself that it was only a dream.

Only a dream.

* * *

On the other side of the mists, Jareth's face was sent into a stony mask after she had left.

Freida came to him, her pretty face lined with disapproval.

"You did well, my dear," he tried to smile a bit, but it felt fake.

"Jareth, she didn't deserve that."

"She rejected me," he answered grimly.

"She thought she was saving her brother from death," Freida countered firmly. "I was at the Crystal Ballroom, I saw her face then. Hell, I saw her face now! She would have worshiped you. Now, I'm not so sure."

"If I had not sworn my allegiance to you, I'd be on the other side, comforting the poor girl. The lies you told her were too much for anyone to handle, maybe even Lady Sarah. You'd best be prepared to own up to the consequences."

He said nothing, merely staring at the spot where his Sarah had left him.

* * *

**A/N: **I know, this one's mean, I'm sorry luvs. But things have got to get worse before they get better, I'm afraid.


	4. Pure Coincidence

Disclaimers: Ain't got no Labyrinth to keep me warm at night...

* * *

Sarah awoke on her couch, a green spread warming her distressed body from shoulder to toe. She stretched and looked about, finding a hastily written note on the coffee table.

_Sarah,_

_I told the university you wouldn't be able to make it to work today because of last night's events. Also, some guy names Greg is coming over at three. _

_I wish I could stay with you, but the band is having an important recording._

_Take it easy, okay? _

_Love, John. _

Sarah winced inwardly at his thoughtfulness. Next to the note, he had placed a digital clock read nine-forty five with the alarm set at two o'clock.

He didn't deserve to be her second-best, she thought glumly.

That Goblin King, on the other hand, deserves to be kicked in his royal treasure, hung from his toes above the Bog of Eternal Stench because that bastard is a sexy jerk who put her down cold when he should've just let her speak to him for the first time in _nine years without a single word_... and he... he...

He does not want you, a figment of her imagination or not, she bitterly forced herself to think.

Therein lies the key. Not thinking.

After brushing her teeth and a quick shower, she went to the phone.

"Hey, Greggs, do you think you can come over here a bit earlier? Yeah... Great."

* * *

When he entered her apartment, she had wrapped herself in the green spread, another cup of steaming tea in her lap. Her hair was tied into a messy knot and her bright green eyes had a sunken, beaten feeling to them. She knew she must look like shit, but she didn't care.

She looked up at him, a soft smile of relief escaping onto her weary features before she could stop it.

"Greggs! Hey... Sorry, I know I must look like a train hit me."

He smiled sympathetically.

"I hadn't noticed."

"Liar," she smiled weakly, patting the grey cushions beside her in an invitation. He took it, and she could see the the concern fogging up his russet eyes.

"Sarah, what happened last night?" he asked softly.

"I was the object of attempted rape," she answered, eyes cast down.

"What else?" he questioned softly. "It'd have to be much more than just a rapist to take that fire and spirit from you... What happened?"

She squirmed a bit, unsure if she should tell him _everything _that had happened, including that little incident nine years and twenty-four days ago.

"You can tell me," he promised quietly. "I won't think any less of you."

Sarah looked up at him, a bit apprehensive but ready.

"I've never told anyone this before. They would've thought me crazy, but... Nine years ago, my parents were out and one-year-old Toby wouldn't stop crying..."

* * *

"...and all he left was a single white feather. That's all the physical contact I've had in nine years," she ended, voice bitter and discontent.

Greggs hadn't interrupted at all during the lengthy story and still didn't say a word when she finished. A short silence stretched between them as he looked into her eyes with an almost uncomfortable intensity.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"No, no I don't. In fact, I believe you."

"You... You what?"

"I believe you. My mom had once told me _she _had wished away her younger sister, Frieda, and failed to reach the castle at the Labyrinth's center. She told me all about the folklore when my own younger sister drank and drove, killing a mother and her two year old child. I wanted her gone for that, but my mother told me watch what I said. I always thought that it was some sort of parable and just took what she said to heart. Then I read the book and just thought my mom was so grief-ridden about Aunt Frieda's death that she had stolen the plot from some fairytale and put her own twist to it. But now... I guess it's true."

"Oh... I'm- I'm sorry about your aunt," Sarah said, at a loss for what to say.

Greggs sighed.

"I'm sorry about that Goblin King toying with you," he answered.

"You know what we should do?" Sarah asked, brightening a bit.

"What?"

"Head over to Pete's Pub. That'll get our minds off of all this," she proposed.

Greggs smiled a bit, minding the fact it was still only three o'clock.

"Alright, I'll hail a cab. Maybe we can ask him to wait for us while we grab some ice-cream while we wait for five o'clock to roll around. Better yet, maybe we can treat him to some frozen deliciousness."

"Hail a cab? What'd you do, jog all the way over here?"

"I won't bring my car just to have my keys be handed over to some bartender because we're going to get insanely drunk," he teased lightly.

* * *

An hour and a half later, they were listening to Carlos the cab driver's insane antics over triple scoops of vanilla, mint and chocolate.

"An' he jus' says to me 'Follow that cab!' An' I'm jus' thinkin' to meself 'Ah, shit, 'ere we go again.'"

The two cracked up, Sarah doubling over in laughter. Greggs put a hand over his mouth as his eyes shut and grew red in the face with that big laugh of his.

Carlos took a satisfied lick of his ice-cream, glad he had succeeded in giving the two most generous customers he ever had a good time.

_Splunk. _A giggle followed.

A glob of mint-chip stuck onto Sarah's dainty nose, dripping onto the table.

"Oops," she laughed, picking up a napkin to dab at the offending ice-cream. Greggs stopped her, taking it in his own and wetting a tip of it in his cup of water and gently wiping it off. His tongue licked his bottom lip, and it was clear he wanted nothing more than to take her nose in his mouth and suck it all off.

The way Sarah looked at his tongue made Carlos think that the two were of the same mind.

"Oi, by the way, 's four thirty. You guys still wanta go over t' the pub?" he asked purposefully loudly, chuckling to himself when Greggs dropped the wet napkin and Sarah flinched.

It took some time for them to get themselves together enough for Greggs to answer.

"If you'd drive us over, that would be great. Hell, if you want to join us, that'd be even better. We'll just call another cab to drop us off, one by one."

"That'd be great, it really would, bu' I've gotta make a few more rounds 'bout the city."

Their faces sagged in disappointment.

"Hey," Sarah piped up, "What if I payed you for the rest of your rounds and _then _you join us?"

"Aww, that really would be sweet of you, bu' I really can't. Here, though," Carlos fished his wallet out of his back pocket, "is me work phone. Ring me up if you twos ever need a ride."

"We'll make a point of it," Sarah smiled, taking the rumpled thing into her hand. "Do you have another one for Greggs?"

Carlos made a confused face.

"Don' you live t'gether?"

They both mimicked each other perfectly in sync, a questioning look on their faces.

"No... Why would say that?" Greggs asked.

Carlos looked at him, shocked.

"Well, 'urry up an' pop the question, time's a-waistin'!"

"We aren't even together! Sarah has a boyfriend..."

"Uh-huh... Wha'ever you two say. Now, we'd best be headin' over to the pub then."

* * *

Getting out of the cab, Greggs took out his wallet, not allowing Sarah to pay.

"So what do we owe you?"

"Nothin'," Carlos chuckled, "Bes' trip I ever took in me five years of service. 'S on me."

Greggs opened his mouth to disagree, but Carlos sped off, a hand waving out the window in a goodbye.

He smiled at the speeding yellow checkered taxi.

"Well then," he said, putting his arm out for Sarah, "I think it's time to get insanely drunk, don't you?"

She graced him with a big smile, and he couldn't help but return it.

"I'm having a great time, Greggs. Thank you for taking me out. I really needed it."

"No problem, Little Red Riding Hood, it's my duty to take your mind off of that big bad wolf," he teased, and she rolled her eyes at him.

Inside, they were bombarded with the smell of beer and the sound of sports and hollering. The lights were dimmed and it became obvious Happy Hour began. The karaoke machine was rolled onstage and spotlights flashed erratically.

They paid no mind, taking a seat at the bar stools, and before Sarah could order, Greggs asked for a round of shots.

"We are going to play a little game of two lies and one truth. You guess the truth and I take a shot. You miss or forfeit, you take a shot. Okay?"

"Okay," she smiled. She was sooo going to win this one.

"Alright, you go first."

"Okay... My favorite bird is an owl, I'm a big fan of David Bowie or I have a second sibling."

"Hmmm... Second sibling," he guessed, and she made a face.

"How'd you guess?"

"Well, you said Jareth turns into a barn owl, and who _isn't _a big fan of Bowie?"

She laughed, taking her required shot.

"Alright, my turn... I've got three brothers and one sister, my favorite color is purple, or I was once crowned King Greggs of the Gypsies."

"The gypsy part."

"Nope. Back in France, I was the reigning gypsy monarch."

She gasped, her eyes widening considerably.

"You're a king?! No way!"

Greggs laughed at her reaction.

"Yup. King Greggs of the Court of Miracles. Descendant of Clopin himself."

"As in Hunchback of Notre Dame Clopin?"

"The very same."

"You liar!"she scoffed.

"Stop trying to make me forget about that shot you still have to take," he teased, eyes bright.

She made shook her head, a smile stick on her lips, as she downed the burning liquid. Putting the small glass down, she returned her attention to him.

"What made you leave Paris?"

Darkness crossed his handsome face, eyes fogging up a bit as some memory flitted across his mind.

"Not now," he answered, "I'm too sober to remember at the moment." He picked a glass and threw his head back.

Taken aback, Sarah followed his lead, taking another glass to her lips. What had happened back there that fouled his mood so thoroughly?

"Why don't we keep playing?" she asked quickly in an attempt to bring back his previous light-heartedness. "It is, after all, my turn. You know, I'm beginning to think you're determined to win so you can take advantage of me," she teased.

Greggs lost some of the tension in his shoulders, to Sarah's relief.

"That," he answered, "is not the point."

Something in the background hum of the pub caught her attention. A smooth, low purr filled the dark room with a tone of sensuality and underlying mockery. Sarah shivered involuntarily, the stuffy, smoke-filled bar suddenly much to cold for her liking.

_There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel, opened and closed within your eyes. _

_I'll place the sky within your eyes._

She stood quickly, nearly knocking over a glass or two, fire blazing in her green eyes.

"The audacity," she snarled, whipping around violently.

Some bastard was singing _their _song at the karaoke without that tone of undying love and affection. That was the _best fucking part, _and even if you had the voice of a goddamned _angel, _which this guy did, he still had no right to sing it with that sarcasm, no siree. This was the one thing she held sacred in that entire rendezvous, and a drunk angel-voiced bastard was going to ruin it. No-one was going to soil their song.

_No-one._

Sarah looked threateningly up at the stage and nearly fell back as she saw him.

_Him, _in tight jeans and a "I love NYC" tee-shirt, long hair tied back but still as poofy as ever. And then those eyes. Those mismatched, stormy, annoying, obnoxious, steamy _eyes_ challenging her with the stanza

_As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you. Every thrill is gone. Wasn't too much fun at all, but I'll be there for you-ou-ou as the world falls down. _

She was filed with an embarrassed but furious blush, molten fire spreading through her tense body and lighting her brain in pure anger.

Didn't love her, did he? She wasn't going to go off crying, this time, oh no. She'd show _him _how much she didn't love him.

"Hey, Greggs, _luv, _I've got one. I'm twenty-four years old, my eyes are green or I'm _not wearing any underwear?_" she smothered, eyes darting over to the stage.

Ah, there, a stutter and choke in the melody.

"Sarah, what's going on?" Greggs frowned at her ridiculous flirting, following her eyes to the stage but not making a connection.

"Just guess, Greggs," she purred, lowering her shirt so more of her breasts were exposed.

His eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Maybe you've had too much to drink," he said, uncertain at her sudden advances.

_Great, of all the men she could've brought, it was King Greggs, the Noble._

_"Come on, _Greggs, just guess."

He sighed, still looking concerned.

"You're twenty-four."

"Sorry, Greggs, wrong," she said, turning around and bending over so he could see her lacy red thong. A gulp was heard over the karaoke microphone.

_That's right, fairy boy, look at what you're missing out on. _

She watched as the singer took the microphone out of its stand and traveled about the bar, a spotlight following him. He settled on a confused looking slender brunette. He continued singing to her, pulling her closer with every word. He cut the song short by kissing her soundly on the lips, moans of pleasure being picked up on the microphone.

She was furious, but perhaps not as much as the brunette's boyfriend, standing up and snarling at them both. Bleach-blonde in a leather duster and jeans, he crossed his arms, murder written on his face.

"Dru! Drusilla! Bloody hell! That's it, we're moving back to Prague where that mob can finish you off," he growled in a distinctly Cockney accent, grabbing Dru's light hand with such force that even Jareth was surprised.

"Can we grab a drunk first, dearie? They always have the most interesting smell to them... Almost like maggots in a baguette," her voice floated as she was pulled out.

Sarah, Jareth and Greggs' eyebrows raised at the couple.

And then, something really interesting happened, causing her eyes to pop open.

"Say, Sarah..."

"Yeah, Greggs?" she asked, surprise making her voice crack, her eyes never leaving the bar's entrance.

"Isn't that John? I'm not sure, seeing as that blonde is sucking his lips off."

"Yeah, Greggs, it is."

* * *

**A/N: **Points and extra kudos if you can name the reference to what scene/characters and the fandom!


	5. Deja Vu

Disclaimers: You see my name on those legal papers? Yeah, me neither.

**A/N: **Also, much thanks and love to **L**, my wond-iferous beta.

* * *

Jareth watched carefully for Sarah's reaction.

He had watched glimpses of her life after the Labyrinth occasionally, such as her involvement with this John person, convincing himself that it was for vengeful purposes _only._Time after time she had proven stronger than he had thought, amazing him with her class in sticky situations. He wondered briefly if this was to be one of those times.

Her eyebrow cocked up, a hand placed on her hip in a manner surprisingly similar to his own.

He couldn't help but give an amused little chuckle. Knowing that stance, this was going to be entertaining.

She didn't wait for him to finish his mini make-out session, merely stepped up to the two and pulled them apart. John looked at her, irritated, before an expression of surprise settled on his features.

"I-I thought you were-"

"Key," she cut him off coldly, hand held out expectantly.

Looking as if he were about to protest, she gave him a hard glare. He promptly shut his mouth, fished for his key to their- _her _apartment, and dropped it into her palm.

"You can grab your stuff tomorrow," she stated coldly. Pushing the confused blonde out of the way, she exited the pub with a flourish.

Greggs pulled out his wallet and paid the bartender, an amazed smile splitting his face in half.

"What a woman..." he commented breathily as he practically floated out the door.

_My woman, _Jareth thought, momentarily forgetting that Sarah was _supposed _to be his adversary. A slightly jealous and critical eye followed the male gypsy, his face taking on a haughty look instead of the previously amused one. _My Sarah, even though she doesn't quite know it yet._

* * *

A year later, a set of diamonds glittered on Sarah's left ring finger, her hand tangled in Greggs' rough but gentle one. She touched his matching ring with a contentment that never got old.

Pulling out of the old Victorian house's driveway that she once called home, she put a satisfied head on his shoulder.

"I'm so glad that your parents approve of the wedding," he said, his voice soothing and smooth to her tired ears.

"You should be glad _Toby _approves; he's the hardest to impress," she laughed. Greggs let out his own chuckle in return.

"Trust me, I am. It took two jars of candy and a box of toys just so he could get past the fact that I'm not a Goblin King. How he even remembers him is beyond me."

"What can I say? It took you six months to let go of my Jareth look-alikes and give you a chance. Stubbornness runs in the family," she joked. His name and the thought of him came so much more easily now that she had finally come to terms with her attraction to and slight resentment against him with Greggs' help. Bygones were bygones, and if he didn't want her, that was okay. She had moved on.

"Hey, Little Red," he gently pulled her out of her reveries he parked, "I'm going to go grab some groceries. I'll be back soon," he promised.

Little Red, she mused. His pet name for her since that day at the bar. The heroine of the story.

Except she had it much better than Red Riding-Hood. She ended up with a man who loved her dearly, despite having the darkest past she'd ever heard, balancing it out with the happiest disposition she'd ever seen.

Things were perfect. At least, as close to perfect as real life could get. It seemed as if Sarah soon-to-be Moneaux was going to get her own 'happily ever after' after all.

"Hey, lady!" a gruff voice made her head snap up and turn.

Turn, that is, to a gun pointed at her face.

Its barrel was pressed against the car window's glass, a beefy finger poised at the trigger.

"Get out of your car! And I want see your hands up!" the slightly wavering voice commanded. Her attacker moved back from the car door, gun still pointed at her forehead.

She took a deep breath and did as she was told, one hand up as she slowly opened up the car door. As she ducked her head and got out of the passenger's seat, she blinked in surprise.

Her attacker's face was dotted with acne: an adolescent face. His large knees trembled and his big, brown eyes held a sort of fear and insecurity of a deer about to flee. Why, he couldn't have been more than sixteen.

"What do you want? Money? Beer? The car?" she asked, taking care to ensure her voice was calm and compliant, non-threatening in the least.

"I-I want you to shut your filthy mouth! I don't want your beer or money!" he yelled uncertainly, eyes darting around the parking lot.

"Then what would you like? I can only help you if you tell me what you want," she answered smoothly. She watched his knees buckle a bit at the word "help." _That's it, Sar... Appeal to his humanity and maybe he'll realize what he's doing..._

"I want...I want my brother back," his voice broke with heaviness and pain. Sarah couldn't help but blink yet again in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"I_ saw_what you did, bitch! I was just around the corner, watching, and saw you conjure up those things and take him and his beer buddies! Jack didn't deserve that! Not him or Bobby or Henry... I mean, they did some pretty screwed up things, and that night they went a little too far, but still... They didn't deserve to die!"

"Die...?"

"Don't you lie to me, bitch, you know what happened! You know that they ended up _dead _in some dumpster in Oklahoma!" he snarled, tears now streaming down his face. "They didn't deserve that. _I _didn't deserve that..."

Sarah found herself growing incredibly sympathetic to him.

"No, you're right, you don't."

"Then bring him back! Bring Jack back with those witch powers."

"I'm so sorry, but I can't."

"You have to! Just try, oh God, please. Just try to bring him back and I swear you'll never hear from me or him ever again."

He was getting desperate, she could see it in his eyes. Desperation plus hormones plus unstable equals ticking time bomb.

She heard footsteps and a slight falter, knowing someone at long last was coming to rescue her, all she had to do was distract him.

"I know... I-I know things have been hard for you," she prolonged, nerves getting to her.

"You're damn right they've been!"

"Losing someone is never easy, but you have to listen to me-"

"No, not until you bring my brother back."

"Please, just listen-"

"BITCH, I WILL PULL THIS TRIGGER IF YOU DON'T TRY NOW!" he yelled with such ferocious force that she nearly took a step back.

"Just listen to my voice, for a second-"

"I WILL END YOUR DAMN LIFE!" stepping closer, he cocked his gun and aimed it at her forehead.

Things were getting out of hand, now.

"If you pull that trigger-"

She stopped as he froze. She had heard it, too. Her rescuer had one step out of place, ruining his cover. He was _so_ close...  
_  
__Damn._

He pulled the trigger.


	6. Price to Pay

Disclaimers: I own nothing but a creature named Squat. No, seriously, I own a goblin named Squat.

**A/N: **Much appreciation to and her fantasmic super-hero beta-reading powers from beyond.

* * *

Time slowed. Everything that held Sarah's world together was stretched and pulled apart, rearranging themselves to center around the bullet hurdling toward her forehead. She closed her eyes as short, broken segments of thought struggled across her mind.

This was it.

This was the end.

There was no if.

This was _death._

And she could do nothing but wait. Wait for a force that would send her toppling, unimaginable pain hitting her right between her eyes with only a few moments of consciousness before oblivion. Her mind went haywire, expectation searing behind her eyelids and creeping under her skin, writhing and hissing with an intensity that was almost painful. Her thoughts were silent. There was only a niggling impatience.

The bullet sang, slicing air, with a deft thud as it hit.

Sarah's face was spattered with warm flecks of quickly cooling blood accompanied with the greatest shock she'd ever experienced, every muscle tensing.

The blood wasn't hers.

Green eyes filled with a mixture of relief, disappointment, excitement, and shock were revealed as her eyelids shot upwards to watch another shot whiz toward the man on the ground.

Another sickening thud and a crunch was heard, accompanied with a grunt of pain.

The boy was shaking, having thrown the gun to the floor, a horrified hand coming over his gaping mouth. He fled. She didn't try to stop him.

Instead, she looked down, a feeling of dread seeping into her bones like lead.

_No. Not him._

* * *

**Five minutes earlier**

Jareth appeared in his throne room with a _poof _of glitter and collapsed in his ivory throne, combing back his wild hair with a gloved hand. In his other arm, a sleeping child of two shifted comfortably. Another summons, but no runner. In fact, he hadn't a runner in nearly ten years...

Goblins were in a frenzy, screaming and running frantically, agitated.

He picked up a random goblin waddling past by the shirt, the child still slumbering.

"Squat," he demanded his subject's attention sharply, "stop squirming so and tell me what in the blazes in happening."

Squat stiffened.

"'S Lady Sarah. She being scared by boy with metal thing," he made a crude gesture imitating a gun. Jareth dropped Squat in surprise, mismatched eyes widening.

"Where is Greggs?" he asked quickly at Squat.

Squat sat up on the grubby floor, not offended by the sudden drop in the slightest.

"Don't know where Gypsy man is. "

Jareth fought to stay calm, and knelt down to level himself with Squat. He held out the sleeping child, sure that his spell to keep her dreaming was in effect.

"Take her and bring her to Frieda," he commanded, and Squat clumsily did so. "If you drop her, I promise I will suspend you head first over the Bog of Eternal Stench for all time, understand?"

"Yup. Take 'er to lady and don't drop her," he repeated, looking down at his precious cargo. Meanwhile, Jareth conjured a crystal and demanded it show him Sarah.

"Good. Tell her I'm off protecting what's mine."

* * *

Jareth reappeared in the shadows of the dark alleyway. He saw the bullet leave the barrel with alarming speed, aimed toward Sarah's forehead.

He rose his fingers to snap, slowing and reordering time, but before he could, an unforeseen flash of jeans and a t-shirt jumped and hurtled before her and intercepted the shot. The body curled around it and skidding to a halt in before Sarah's feet.

Her lovely eyes opened quickly, blood-stained figure stiffening. She didn't look at the heap on the ground, instead at the shooter, who, in his cowardice, ran. She did nothing.

He watched as slowly, unbearably, her eyes found her wounded savior. Strength left her, and she crumbled to the ground, recognition in her eyes. Shaking, she gently turned the man so she could see his face.

Her fiancé attempted a feeble smile, even as his shirt soaked in blood and stuck to his body.

"Hey there, Sar... Thought you needed a hand."

A weak hand went to her face, wiping some red off of her cheek as her face contorted in pain, chin trembling with contained sobs and unshed tears.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" she yelled, a tear escaping the corner of her eye. Another followed, and soon a flood of liquid sorrow poured onto the asphalt, gasps of air echoing off of the grimy walls of the parking lot.

"What would I say to Toby if he found out I didn't do my job of protecting and loving you?" his eyes began to close, and Jareth watched as she shook her head in denial, wrapping her arms tightly around the body that was only going to get colder, as all three knew. He had been shot in the stomach area and thigh. Thankfully it didn't look like it had touched his femoral artery, but pieces of the bullet may have hit something important.

Jareth's heart bled for her, watching her sob so for Greggs. He had to do something... Anything...

Feeling like an intruder in this intimate scene, he walked toward the two as Greggs slipped into unconsciousness.

"Sarah..." he whispered quietly, consolingly.

"What do you want, Jareth? I swear, if you're here to mock me, I'll- I'll..." The end of her sentence was lost as she took a shuddering breath.

"No, not at all. I'm..." He fought for the right words. "I'm sorry about this."

She looked up at him with her tear-streaked face, the desperate sobs fading into memory with much difficulty. It was clear she was only keeping calm to face her adversary, and Jareth winced inwardly. He almost wanted to argue, to tell her that he wasn't the enemy here, but there were more pressing matters.

He placed a hand on the body and Sarah. They were gone in a moment. All that was left was a car and pool of blood shining into the night.

* * *

The local hospital's doors opened before them as they appeared on its doormat, as if sensing the urgency. Jareth, still clad in his low poet's shirt and tight-fitting breeches, had the bleeding Greggs in his arms, a grim look on his face, Sarah's bloody and distraught figure at his side.

The odd trio caught the nurse's attention immediately, and she called for a gurney and some doctors with a hurried tone.

"His name is Gregory Moneaux, twenty seven. He was shot in the stomach," he told the nurse, and she nodded as she typed it all down.

White coats adorned with stethoscopes flew in, taking Greggs from Jareth and heading back through the double doors. A bespectacled woman told them firmly to stay in the waiting room after checking the both of them over for any injuries.

They had kept vigil together as they were told Greggs went through surgery. Neither broken champion or beaten king shared a word. Hours passed, and Jareth watched Sarah's own life fade from her. Her fire bled from her body and was absorbed into the cracking white paint of the hospital's walls greedily, green eyes losing substance as every second passed with no word.

At long last, a doctor with raven hair carefully combed back accompanied by another doctor with pale blue eyes entered the waiting room.

"Excuse me, we'd like to speak to to the couple accompanying Mister Gregory Moneaux?" the authoritative voice of the pale-eyed doctor rang out. Jareth stood, waiting for Sarah to join him. Instead, she moved to the doctor without him at her side.

"Yes, I'm his fiancé," she said quietly.

The pair of doctors gestured to an empty hallway, and Jareth followed without an introduction.

"Hi," said the one with dark hair, "I'm Doctor Kevin Casey, I was your fiancé's lead surgeon; this is Doctor Kelso, his medical doctor," he said. Fidgeting, he couldn't keep eye contact for long, staring at various objects around the room. His fingers twitched at his side and slipped into a pocket.

Doctor Kelso looked almost irritatedly at Doctor Casey, but covered it up quickly with sincerity. He took over.

"We removed the bullets and treated the area around the for peritonitis. Unfortunately, fragments of the bullet pierced the lung and grazed his heart. We patched it up as best we could, but we weren't fast enough. His organs are shutting down, so we hooked him up onto life support. He won't last long," he said, grief almost too real setting in his pale eyes.

Sarah collapsed onto a plush chair and swallowed, taking it all in.

"Thank you, Doctors," Jareth dismissed them both. He turned to Sarah, her face devoid of any color. She looked as if she could sink into the chair at any moment and just fade from existence. He opened his mouth to say something, but found no words would come.

He sat down instead, laying a hesitant hand on her shoulder as a sign of truce and comfort.

She looked at it blankly, dead and lifeless. Looking up suddenly, a feeble spark ignited within the depths of her green eyes, pleading slipping onto the corner of her full lips.

"You can reorder time, right?" her voice was thick from spent tears and the threat of still more just behind her eyelids.

Jareth shifted uncomfortably, not liking what this question entailed.

"Yes..."

"Rewind it. Rewind time, just an hour, and stop that bullet from hitting him," she whispered frantically.

Jareth began to shake his head, marvelling at the lengths she would go through to save him.

"No wait, please just listen. I'll give you anything! I'll- I'll let you do anything! I'll even let you... I'll even come with you Underground to be your slave forever... Just rewind time and let him live his life... I swear, you can have anything! Anything," she hesitated slightly, "except for Toby."

"Sarah, I can't-"

"Anything! Any-"

He put a finger up in a request for her to listen.

"I really can't. I can't change the past. What's done is done," he said, sincere regret lacing his tone. He waited for that to sink in, mentally preparing himself for the tears to come.

He wasn't ready.

They came down fast and hard, and she turned her face away quickly and put her face into her hands, soundless drops slipping from their places.

Swallowing hard, Jareth watched her body shake with sobs. Perhaps...

"There...there is something I can do," he finally admitted softly.

Sarah turned to him in a flash, eyes watery.

"I can't promise anything, but maybe...maybe the Labyrinth can sustain him long enough so he can heal. However, there are some complications," he told her carefully.

"Do it," she said firmly.

"Sarah, you don't even know the risks-"

"I don't care."

"It comes with a price-"

"Jareth," she looked at him pleadingly, "_please._"

That broke him. He nodded and asked the nurse at the desk which room held Greggs. She pointed to it, and they went in quietly.

The blankets were tucked neatly around him, machines beeping quietly, sentinels watching over his body. His eyes were closed, the flesh about his face already seeming to cling to his skull. His lips were dry, the color of his skin sickly. Only and hour had passed and yet he looked like hell.

"Sarah, are you sure about this? He can't ever leave the Underground. Would he want you to do this?"

For a moment, she almost looked unsure. She shifted her weight as the thought occurred that he might not _want _to live in the Labyrinth for the rest of his life.

"Yes, yes he would. He would for me," she said, not meeting Jareth's gaze. He nodded and gestured for her to come closer.

Freezing Greggs' body in time, he unhooked him from the machines. Sarah came near, and for the last time that night, Jareth popped into the other side of the mists.

* * *

**A/N: ***coughs awkwardly at what is supposed to be emotionally intense almost death scene* Ernm, yeaahhh... That was fun.

Also, more references for you, although this one isn't as obvious.


	7. Changes

Disclaimers: Own the Labyrinth? That's funny, really, you should become a comedian.

A/N: A million hugs to the my wonder- beta Bluebell. Trust me, she's awesome.

Sarah felt the ground spin and fall from beneath her, gravity becoming something entirely too complicated as she spun and fell into darkness. On instinct, she tightened her hold on the smooth, sleek material of Jareth's cream poet's shirt, knuckles white with tension. It was over in a moment, but to Sarah, it was a moment too long.

Feeling her knees buckle and fail to support her weight, feet suddenly met ground and her stomach's meager contents threatened to spill. She clung to Jareth as if her very life depended on it. His rock-hard chest rumbled a bit in a short chuckle of amusement. She straightened when she felt that; no way he was going to take satisfaction at her expense.

Momentarily forgetting the situation at hand, she glared at him, fire lighting within the deep jade. And then those furious eyes found Greggs' body, limp but suspended in time, and the anger and spirit faded from her. She brushed back a rogue strand of hair, her lip trembling again.

Light footfalls snapped her from her dive into grieving.

"Sire, have you any idea how hard it is-" the feminine voice broke as a light gasp sounded.

Sarah turned to the noise. It was the red-headed beauty she had seen in her dream, looking exactly the same, save for a new dress that properly covered all of her assets.

"Jareth!" she hissed, coming directly to the body in his arms. Hostile, green eyes followed the delicate hands that caressed Greggs' face intimately. "Did you do this to my poor baby?"

"And just who might you be?" Sarah asked, her voice cold and clipped. The lady with the red curls either didn't seem to notice or pretended not to.

"I'm Frieda, his aunt... Gods, I haven't seen this angelic face since he was seven," she whispered brokenly.

Sarah winced with the truth, feeling foolish.

"He told me about you," she said to Frieda, her tone now friendly and warm if not sorrowful, "He loves you and misses you quite a bit."

Frieda looked at her for a moment, and Sarah saw pearly tears glisten on her flawless cheeks. She nodded.

"What happened to him?" she asked quietly, directing her question to Sarah.

"Ladies," Jareth cut in dryly with a tense edge, "I do believe he needs to see the healer. So Frieda, if could you got fetch Colwyn, I'd be eternally grateful."

"Yes, Sire," Frieda curtseyed and gave a lingering gaze to her unconscious nephew as she fled.

Jareth set Greggs down on a nearby cot as Sarah marveled at her surroundings. The walls were lined with shelves, jars of all sorts of things collecting dust. Some had crushed herbs floating in some sort of sludge while others contained light glowing brightly, if not erratically, in their glass cages. The air smelled slightly damp, but the sharp, electric feel (which Sarah somehow knew was the feel of magic) and smell of herbs covered any unpleasantness. Candles flickered lightly, casting shadows throughout the room while giving a pleasant smoky touch. While the variety of new smells and sights should have frightened her, they gave off the opposite effect of calm and quiet.

She decided they were inside something of a medicinal room.

Returning to her beloved, she clutched his frozen hand in her own, pressing it to her lips. He looked so immensely wrong without breath entering and leaving his strong but lean chest. His breath was often what calmed her at night after she had dreamt another of those horrid dreams once a week. The visions were always steamy, that was true enough, but in the past year, some delicately gorgeous woman replaced Sarah's spot atop Jareth, and it was only the rhythmic rise and fall of Greggs' chest that had placated her.

Now, she laid her head across his stilled body, fighting off the urge to simply melt into it and trade her life for his. Jareth coughed awkwardly, but she said nothing.

Upon hearing a wheezing cough as dusty as the shelves, she reluctantly sat upright to meet the source of the voice.

He was old, that much she could tell, with a kindly face crinkled like wasted parchment. His thick, slightly wavy white hair fell neatly from his head and rested on his surprisingly straight back. He had a sense of magic about him, and Sarah knew he was the healer.

"Lady Sarah?" he asked, a look of amusement crossing his face.

"Yes, sir."

"I hear your ill fiancé brings you back to the castle at the centre of the Goblin City."

"Yes, sir."

"Please child, call me Colwyn... Now, let me see this young mortal Frieda told me of."

Sarah gestured faintly at Greggs, his body still frozen in time.

Colwyn came forward and looked at Jareth.

"You may release him from that time, your Majesty. The Labyrinth will hold onto his life; she will sustain him... Besides, we both know reordering time for such a long period is taxing on you," his blue eyes flicked towards Sarah, and she had a feeling that last part was for her benefit.

She took the hint and watched discreetly as Jareth relaxed and let out a long breath. She supposed she hadn't noticed his discomfort until now.

"Now," Colwyn addressed the other three, "While I'm sure I would enjoy your company, I'm afraid you must leave me to do my work."

Frieda looked at her nephew and nodded, finding Sarah's gaze to in an unspoken invitation to follow. She, too nodded after a sideways glance at her now breathing beloved. She left the medicinal room in silent despair.

A certain Goblin King stayed behind, a torn look on his face.

"When I said 'you must leave me,' I meant all of you," Colwyn added sternly, blue gaze hard and sharp.

"I... Is there anything I can do?" he queried gently, his smooth baritone unusually soft and hesitant as he looked at Greggs with a mixture of resentment, amazement, and a bit of pity. Colwyn straightened, a small gleam of amusement in the corner of his eye.

"One moment you're planning his lengthy, painful demise. Now that he's here, you're doing all that is in your power to save him. You... You really lover her, don't you?" A small smile played on his thin, aging lips.

Jareth stiffened dangerously, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"I'll have you know that Sarah is my ten-year adversary. He," he gestured to Greggs, "is my subject now, and I ensure the health and safety of all my subjects, born Goblin Kingdom citizen or not."

"Of course, your Majesty. Of course," Colwyn chuckled as he looked at the gauze covering the young man's wounds.

Jareth turned on a leather heel to leave with a flourish.

"I believe it was you that said love changes everything," Colwyn called after him.

"No," Jareth stopped for a moment in the hall, his whole body language changing into something different entirely. Something neither of them were all that familiar with.

"Sarah changes everything."

His king, Colwyn decided, sounded beaten.

A/N: Sorry this is so ridiculously short and almost pointless after a while of waiting. I promise things will go 'boom' very soon, just trust me.


End file.
